Nothing like reality giving him a swift kick in the nuts to remind him of why he didn’t want her at the fight. Not only did his ego balk at her witnessing such a shitty fight, but he had no idea if the Sicoli boys would want their cannoli and eat it, too, and he didn’t want to serve her up on a silver platter.
“Kat, listen to me,” he said, bringing her hands down in front of him. “I want you to go home, and after I’m done fighting I’ll come over and we can talk then, okay?”
“Absolutely not. I’m here to support you and cheer you on. End of discussion.”
Xan’s voice bellowed through the door. “Two minutes or you forfeit, mate. Let’s go!”
Damn it, he had no time to argue, and to say she was in rare form would be an understatement. Fuck! “Okay fine, but you stay close to Xander, you hear me? I don’t trust anyone in this joint. Promise me you’ll stay with him. No matter what, Kat.”
Crossing her heart with a finger, she said, “I promise I’ll stay with Xander.”
He wasn’t nearly satisfied with that, but it would have to do for now. He had a fight to lose if he wanted Kat off the hook and safe to move on with her life. Whether it would be with him or without remained to be seen.
“Then let’s go,” he said, opening the door for her.
Before stepping into the hall, she stopped in front of him with the sort of confidence that only came from one thing: love.
“You’re going to win. I can feel it.”
Bending down, he kissed her lips and savored the tingling sensations curling through his body he thought he’d never experience again. “I hate the thought of disappointing you, kitten.”
“It’s not possible,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.
Though he knew it wasn’t true, Aiden held onto the thought for as long as he could. Apparently no one had taught her not to count her chickens before they hatch. Placing a hand on her lower back, he guided her toward the arena floor and tried not to think about how disappointed in him she was about to be.
…
Kat peeked through the fingers she’d been holding over her eyes for the last… She glanced at the huge digital timer on the wall. It felt like they’d been at it for an hour already. Holy shit, only a minute had gone by in the second round? An agonizing minute of watching Irish barely survive inside the black octagonal cage in the center of a howling, bloodthirsty crowd.
She didn’t understand it. She wasn’t a total imbecile when it came to the sport. She’d caught it on TV a handful of times before she’d even met Irish and watched him train and asked him and Xander a million questions. So why did it seem like something wasn’t right? Not only did Irish look like his heart wasn’t in the fight, but Xander wasn’t even coaching him. The other guy had a couple different people shouting tips and encouragement.
As Aiden was slammed up against the cage yet again, Kat turned to yell into Xander’s ear so he could hear her above the din. “Something’s wrong with him, Xan!”
The bell signaling the end of round two interrupted any answer she may have gotten. Xander picked up a stool and a bucket holding a water bottle, ice bags, and a few other items and raced into the cage. Irish plopped down on the stool, but it didn’t appear as though it was from exhaustion or weakness. He looked…defeated.
Kat gripped the cage and stood on her toes to get as close to him as possible. “Irish!” As Xander rubbed the bag of ice on the backs of his shoulders, Irish turned his head just enough to make eye contact with her. Sweat covered his body and dripped from his hair, but he hadn’t suffered any serious injuries from what she could see. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you creaming this guy?”
A cynical smile twisted his lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s the better man this time.”
She jerked back. He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d hauled off and slapped her.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve seen you spar harder with Xander than what you’re doing now.” Something she couldn’t pinpoint flashed in his eyes before he looked away. She squeezed the fence links in frustration until her fingers went numb. His second chance for a career in the UFC was on the line and if he didn’t shape up, it would be gone before—
Oh, shit. Is that what he’s doing? “Hey,” she yelled. “You better not be throwing this fight to sabotage your future from some bonehead fear you’ve concocted in that thick skull of yours, O’Brien, or so help me God—”
“He has to throw the fight to pay off Sicoli and the dogs working for him.”
Xander’s words could have been Greek for all the sense they made. If Irish had told him about the situation with Sicoli, then surely he would have mentioned the part about Sicoli being Lenny’s problem now, not hers. Not any longer. Irish said he’d made sure of it.
“What the fuck, Xan?” Irish bit out.
“She needs to know for her own good. Ignorance isn’t bliss, Aid, it’s dangerous.”
“In another five minutes it’ll all be over.”